


Bombed Out

by Arrival_Of_Dawn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fighting, Flirting, Flirting on the Battlefield, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Injuries, Missions Gone Wrong, Reluctantly Working Together, Sort Of, Teasing, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrival_Of_Dawn/pseuds/Arrival_Of_Dawn
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy mission for Tracer and her team. Escort the payload from point A to point B, simple, done. Everything changed when Talon showed up with a certain sniper that has a thing for targeting the time jumping woman. When all falls apart Tracer has a choice to make. Leave Widowmaker to die or help her. In the aftermath of her decision Tracer and Widowmaker reluctantly find themselves working together to keep each other safe when all odds are against them.





	1. Chapter 1

            Lena was not sure how she ended up dragging a half dead Talon Agent, Widowmaker to be precise, through the rubble of a bombed out building. Well sure, she knew the logistics of it. She tracked Widowmaker to the top of said building after one too many bullets whizzed past her just a hair’s breath away from splitting her skull open where they then fought up until the bomb collided with the building’s already crumbling structure and dissolved it beneath their feet. Lena managed to avoid the worst of the fall by recalling at the last second before impact then blinking her way down.

             As she stared down at Widowmaker’s shallowly breathing, twisted, purple tinged body she had a choice to make. Leave her to die or…most likely Talon would come looking for her. After all she was a huge asset, investment perhaps, Lena wasn’t sure on the specifics, but both equally made her blood boil. Or she could take Widowmaker somewhere safe so she that she could heal.

             After countless battles against the sniper and the Mondatta incident Lena thought she could harden her heart to the woman, but it was in that moment as she lay there still as the dead that Lena could really see exactly how human she still was. She could see… Amėlie shine through. And if she squinted _just_ enough with the way the light streamed through the busted rafters and spilled onto Widowmaker…Lena could almost pretend it was Amėlie dying and not her mortal enemy.

             She tugged the taller woman onto her back and began her slow crawl out from between the destroyed building. As she ducked beneath beams careful not to hit either of their heads Lena couldn’t help to wonder exactly how she ended up in such an unprecedented situation.

             She had been on what was supposed to be a routine escort mission. Keep the cargo safe from point A to point B with her team that consisted of her, Hana, Lucio, Genji, and one of their newest members, Brigitte. It was an easy mission and gave the seasoned members of Overwatch a chance to show Brigitte the ropes so to speak.

             The mission was dull, but as Genji kept reminding the team, dull meant safe. Lena understood the younger members’ eagerness for action. She had been just like that when she first entered Overwatch and for many of the years that followed.

             Hana’s restlessness was the easiest to relate to. Angela benched her for ten weeks in order to heal from an injury sustained on her last mission. In the past Lena dealt with her fair share of injuries and always hated the recovery period when she was about as useful as a rubber chicken.

             She remembered that itchy call to action well and also knew any placating words she would give them would go in one ear and out the other, so she didn’t bother and instead stuck to the plan of her and Genji alternating positions of scouting ahead and checking their perimeter or staying with the cargo.

             About three quarters of the way through the mission was when Lena began to suspect something was up. Hana and Lucio were discussing music, arguing more like, while Brigitte watched on in playful amusement. Lena was the only one not following their conversation as she clocked Genji’s time. His perimeter check was taking far too long. She tuned into his frequency and began.

            “Genji. You there?” she asked into her comm. “Can you hear me? If so, return to the cargo immediately.”

            There was silence on the other end. Lena tried again to call him back and waited. She turned around in a circle scanning every building surrounding them paying special attention to the dark spaces between and the rooftops. She was a moment away from telling Hana and Lucio to shut it while she did a quick perimeter check herself when her comm blasted to life in a burst of static.

            “Tracer!” Genji’s voice was alert and loud. “Talon is here! Watch out!”

            She pulled her pulse pistols from their place on the small of her back and spun them to make sure their clips were full.

            “Look alive, loves. We have company.”

            Hana did not hide her eager determination at all as she gripped tight to her mech’s handles and swung around to face the front of the cargo. Lucio and Brigitte flanked her standing just off to either side of her with hardened expressions of their own. Lena faced the opposite direction and kept her eyes open as she continued to scan the empty streets.

            That was when she heard the distinct crack of a rifle she knew all too well and blinked just in time to miss a bullet to the chest. The bullet landed with a loud ding in the metal of the payload container.

            “We won’t get very far with _her_ shooting at us. I’ll take her out. You three keep the payload safe and rendezvous with Genji.”

            “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’ll be out of range for Lucio and me,” Brigitte said.

            “Absolutely. Take care, loves!” Lena saluted the team with a flashy grin then blinked off in the direction she believed Widowmaker to be hiding.

            She dodged the bullets that rained down on her and tracked their exact position to a rundown bell tower. She caught the glint of the gun as the light hit it and in she went, blinking up to the roof in no time at all.

            She reached the top of the roof, pistols raised and honed in on the lithe figure of Widowmaker as she unfurled herself from her perch. She untucked her long legs and stood to her full height. Tracer’s pistols rose as Widowmaker did.

            “You’ll need to aim a little higher if you want my head, Chérie.”

            “I’m not like you,” Tracer hissed.

            “That much is obvious,” Widowmaker drawled.

            Widowmaker went silent, eyes narrowed momentarily, and then a sly look crossed her face. “It seems like I don’t have the time to dance with you today.” She raised her left arm, the one with the grappling hook, and Tracer lunged.

            The momentum knocked them both off the edge of the building as Widowmaker’s grappling hook did not fire until after Tracer slammed into her. The hook caught on a spire of the bell tower and Tracer latched onto her leg as it dragged them back up and over the edge.

            Widowmaker kicked towards her face and used her free arm to swing Widow’s Kiss around in its fully automatic mode. Tracer had a split second to blink away before the rain of fire hit her. She caught herself on the crumbling edge just beneath the grappling hook. Widowmaker swung the gun back around ready to fire. Tracer reached up and grabbed the hook then released her other hand and together they both dropped to the rooftop with a loud clatter.

            Neither of them wasted time getting back to their feet. Tracer knew better than to leave Widowmaker with enough distance to fire so she quickly blinked to close the distance between them. She clipped one pistol to her back and wedged the newly freed hand between both of Widowmaker’s that held her gun steady. She pushed _hard_ and Widowmaker’s arms broke apart allowing Tracer enough time to bring her elbow down on Widowmaker’s joint and the gun dropped. Tracer kicked it away and watched it slide away from them.

            In the interim of that moment as her eyes left her opponent, stupid really, Widowmaker grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back in a bone crushing grip. She pressed close and slapped Tracer’s other hand down knocking her pistol to the opposite end of the roof.

            “You should never take your eyes off me,” Widowmaker said. “Foolish girl.”

            “And you should never underestimate me,” Tracer growled.

            She kicked back hitting Widowmaker’s knee as hard as she could. Widowmaker grunted and lowered just enough for Tracer to smash the back of her head into Widowmaker’s face. The sting of impact was nothing compared to the pain that blossomed around her arm that Widowmaker still held tight to. Tracer used the momentary lapse to swing around pulling the pistol from her back and aimed. She squeezed the trigger and the burst fire caused Widowmaker to release her unless she wanted to get shot in the chest.

            They pulled from each other and stared. Tracer watched transfixed as a nice trail of dark blood slid from Widowmaker’s nostril and over her lip.

            “I’m surprised you still bleed,” Tracer said.

            “You know _nothing_.”

            Tracer’s comm crackled to life again and she could hear the fighting that ensued somewhere else in the city.

            “Tracer—we’re taking heavy fire down here—could really use your help!” D.va practically growled.

            “Did you find Genji?” Tracer asked while keeping her eyes trained on the assassin in front of her. Her gaze flickered to her pistol then to Widow’s Kiss and back to Widowmaker herself.

            “He’s injured!” There was a loud explosion that hurt Tracer’s ear. “Brigitte and Lucio are doing what they can, but I think we need Mercy for this one.”

            “Sit tight, love!” Tracer said. “I’ll be right there—whoa!”

Widowmaker tossed a venom mine directly at her. It was instinctual to fire at it and when it burst in her face Tracer only had a moment to recall and avoid the spray. As soon as she reappeared the tables were turned and it was Widowmaker who threw herself at her. They scuffled on the ground as they slid down the stone. Finally Widowmaker came out on top in an uncomfortably familiar role reversal.

            “Tracer?” D.va asked. “Tracer! Are you alright?”

            Widowmaker leaned forward careful to keep her thighs caged around Tracer and her lower half pinned. She plucked the comm from Tracer’s ear with delicate fingers and laughed deep in her throat. “She’s indisposed at the moment.”

            Tracer could hear D.va’s profane shouting just before Widowmaker crushed the little device between her forefinger and thumb. She then leaned back over dropping her upper half until it pressed against Tracer’s chronal accelerator.

            “What would happen if I were to damage this, hmm?” Widowmaker said in a dangerous tone that made Tracer’s eyes widen behind her goggles. “You seemed so concerned to not have it break back with Mondatta.” Widowmaker reached down and pressed her fingers into the glowing blue center.

            “Don’t touch that!” Tracer shouted and tried to buck her off. Widowmaker smashed her legs down with a sickening crunch as armor plated kneecaps met bone. Tracer threw her head back and bit down on her lower lip to keep from wailing.

            “That won’t do,” Widowmaker said with a cluck of her tongue. “I want you to scream for me.”

            Tracer brought her head forward again and glared at Widowmaker. “At least buy me dinner first.”

            “I obviously haven’t done my job right if you can still spout your nonsense.”

            “I think you like hearing me talk, love.” Tracer’s grin was positively biting and vicious and it was reflected in Widowmaker’s scalding expression.

            “Let’s change that then, shall we?”

            Tracer suddenly realized there was an odd stirring in her stomach as Widowmaker drew close enough to have her breath fan over her face and fog the outside of her goggles. This was not good. She had to get back to her team.

            It happened so fast after that. The two barely had time to register the distinct whistle that came with a bomb being dropped from above. Widowmaker pulled back head snapping to look above them as she hissed, “Those idiots!”

            Then the impact came with a rocketing explosion. That’s how Tracer found herself where she was, with a half dead assassin on her back and a bum leg that threatened to give out at any moment. She cursed herself every time her leg wobbled and Widowmaker dipped. The dust was finally clearing enough for her to make out the distinct skeleton of the building and secure an exit route through two fallen beams that were slanted together holding each other up.

            She was a few meters away when something shiny caught her eye. She turned and peered through the gloom. Half hidden beneath cobbled stone and brick was Widow’s Kiss. She glared at the weapon that brought her so much grief. She moved several steps away determined to let the thing rust when she sighed deeply and went back for it.

            “I must be insane,” Tracer grumbled and stuffed the weapon between her arm and side. She wished she had found her second pistol and was going to go back and search for it until the beams around her exit groaned. She hustled forward bogged down by the extra weight and fell through the small gap just in time. The beams collapsed. They kicked up more dirt that coated the two of them in a thin layer of grey.

            Tracer shook herself like a dog to dislodge as much of the dust from her face and hair as possible. It went into her lungs and she ended up coughing and sputtering for a solid minute. With another hearty groan she adjusted Widowmaker and the gun and spit out a mess of blood and saliva.

            “I am sodding insane.”

            The streets around them were silent in only the way that the aftershocks of a bomb could. If anyone had been in the surrounding area before they certainly weren’t now. Tracer had no clue where to go as she looked down the deserted street they were on and without her comm she had no way of contacting her team or Winston back at the base. She wasn’t even entirely sure if there was still an old Overwatch safe house in this city.

            Back in the prime of Overwatch they had dozens of safe houses scattered across countless cities that spanned a massive amount of countries and continents. After the fall of Overwatch many of those safe houses had been raided by each countries respective governments only leaving a few of the better hidden ones intact. Athena had been unable to tell Winston which ones were lost.

            Tracer made her way in the direction of the payload drop off in hopes of encountering anyone from the team. Though she sort of hoped that the extraction team had come to get them out if anything went wrong…and boy did it go wrong. She wouldn’t fault any of them if they did indeed leave.

            She was closing in on the final blocks before the payload dropoff when she heard footsteps coming up fast from behind. She turned, shifting Widowmaker, and peered through the emptiness. Her heart dropped when she saw the telltale Talon uniforms and not her team. Quickly she ducked into an alleyway and dragged them all the way to the back and through a small crevice between two buildings. She propped Widowmaker up against one wall while she pressed against the opposing one.

            She stayed silent and didn’t dare move until all the footsteps moved on. However two stopped at the mouth of the alleyway. One voice she recognized immediately.

            “Her vitals are still coming up so she’s alive,” Moira stated coldly. “She should have been at the impact site.”

            “My team turned up nothing,” Reaper said. Tracer held her breath. It was always hard hearing that voice…she had looked up to him at one point and to see him as he was now hurt almost as much as Widowmaker did.

            “Your team lacks brain cells,” Moira huffed. “Let _my_ team do a sweep. I guarantee they’ll find her.”

            “Watch yourself,” Reaper growled. “Send them in anyway. We have to find her.”

            “I’m on it.”

            Tracer waited until she heard the telltale signs of the two of them…fading away into that weird cloud of black before she dared peek her head out. She picked up the pace and headed towards the dropoff using as many side streets as she knew. It had been some time since her last tryst through this particular European city. Upon coming up to the point she knew in her heart that it was a long shot for her team to still be there, especially if Genji was as injured as Hana made it seem, but her chest still ached when it came up empty.

            The payload was busted, gutted open and bombed out, and she could only hope that the delivery had been successful. She wasted no time there knowing that Talon was not far behind and traveled through towards the outer ring of the city, as far as her leg would take her anyway.

            She prayed that the safe house she was headed towards was still standing. Her back and shoulders ached and her leg was nearly numb. Her head began to swim and she knew she needed to rest sooner rather than later.

            Her heart nearly sang when she came upon the building that held the safe house still intact if not a little worse for wear. It looked mostly abandoned if Tracer was being honest with herself, and she had no time to be anything except brutally honest. This may be a bust, but she had to try.

            She kicked open the door which was sealed from the inside and took a look around. The lower floor of the three story building looked the same if not dirtier and dustier.  It was a front of course. The building had been paraded as a hostel and they did bring in clientele that was not Overwatch from time to time just to keep up appearances, but mostly the top floor was reserved for them.

            Tracer unceremoniously deposited Widowmaker on a couch that had definitely seen better days and set the gun on a nearby table. She rolled her shoulders and neck until she could feel again then set to work on cataloguing what supplies were left and making sure the place was secure. After about an hour of checking the building top to bottom and boarding up any loose ends Tracer collapsed into an arm chair facing Widowmaker with a large black box that she dumped on the table between them.

            She inputted her old Overwatch pin and the box popped open revealing an assortment of medication, specially selected by Angela, rations, and technology. She doubted any of the old tech would work or match the new Overwatch frequencies, but she figured it never hurt to try.

            She pulled out what now looked like an ancient communicator and powered it on happy to find it still did that much. She fiddled with the dials on it trying to find the right frequency that could possibly reach Overwatch, but after about ten minutes of that she gave it up and dropped it back into the box. The next thing she pulled out was what she really wanted. A bottle of pills, mostly untouched, created by Angela herself to help heal most injuries and keep a solider going until they could find better care. On more than one occasion out in the field Tracer found herself using these until she could fly back to base and get checked out.

            She popped two and swallowed them dry and was about to put them away when her gaze landed on the still unconscious woman across from her. She groaned to herself and left the pills out slamming them down on the table. She pulled herself from the armchair and scooped up Widow’s Kiss where she then fiddled with that for a few minutes trying to figure out how to pop out the ammo. The pills were kicking in. She was going to fall asleep any minute now so she stashed the weapon away where she hoped Widowmaker wouldn’t find it and fell back into the armchair.

            The voice in the back of her head told her to fight the sleep and stay awake because the enemy was directly across from her, but the medicine was potent and worked best after a nap. Sure, she could fight it off and stay awake, but then it wouldn’t work nearly as well. She wanted to be ready for anything that came her way, so for that she needed to sleep.

            Besides...somewhere deep in her gut there was this gentle tug that allowed her to relax in spite of Widowmaker's presence. She couldn't make sense of why she felt this way, but she wasn't going to fight it. She had long since learned to trust her instincts and this felt like one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you're all having a lovely day with any of your loved ones, be it friend, family, or significant other. 
> 
> It's the day of love and I wanted to show some love for my best girl, Tracer, and one of my favorite pairings. I think there are so many possibilities for their relationship and I enjoy exploring that. I'll let you know now that this is a relaxing writing venture for me. It's something fun to write in the interim between my other stories and work. I also don't do much editing. I sort of write and post if I'm moderately satisfied, and so far with this I am.
> 
> Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

           Lena woke to a great clatter and was up in an instant feeling entirely too sore, but definitely more alert than she would have been if not for Angela’s miracle medicine. When she got back to base she was going to buy Angela those Swiss chocolates she loved so much as a thank you.

            Her gaze was drawn to the other side of the room as another loud bang of some container falling echoed through the otherwise silent building. Widowmaker was up and tearing through the place from behind the front counter. Her path of destruction was steep with overturned items and skewed furniture. Lena yawned and Widowmaker snapped to attention with a fury beating behind her eyes.

            “What did you do to me and where is my gun?”

            Lena stretched and listened to her bones crack. “I saved your life. And your gun is somewhere safe.”

            Widowmaker spit to the floor in front of Lena. “I doubt that. Now give me my gun before I force you.”

            Lena observed her, arm outstretched as if Lena would actually pull the gun from behind her back and place it in her waiting hand, and quickly noticed how wobbly she was on her feet. She grinned and chuckled under her breath.

            “What is so amusing?”

            “You are, love. You can barely stand and yet you’re still being so demanding. I do not envy whoever you take to bed.”

            Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed. “If you think a little dizziness will keep me from ripping the tongue from your mouth then you have another thing coming.”

            “Are you always this pleasant when you first wake up or is this all for me?”

            “I’m not playing with you, girl. Hand over my weapon.”

            Lena stood and picked up the pill bottle. In one quick motion she tossed it at Widowmaker who caught it with ease.

            “What is this?” She asked and dropped her gaze quickly to the back of the bottle where Angela’s instructions were scrawled across it. “What sort of trick is this?”

            “No trick. Though I might be crazy for even considering giving you something to make you feel better.”

            “If you think I believe you for one second…”

            “You don’t have to believe me, love. But you aren’t looking too good and those will help.”

            Widowmaker’s gaze went steely as she read and re-read the label on the bottle. In a quick motion she plucked open the top and popped two pills into her mouth. She shut the bottle and tossed it back to Lena who then deposited it back in the black box.

            “You were wrong about something,” Widowmaker said in a low tempered voice. Lena hummed to indicate she was listening. “I always look good.”

            Lena snorted. “Wow, cocky much?”

            “Don’t deny it,” Widowmaker said smugly. “I have seen the way you look at me.”

            Lena, just having opened a ration bar and stuck the top half in her mouth, choked on her own spit and beat at her chest with a fist. “I don’t think I heard that right. Are you daft?”

            “Far from it.”

            Lena narrowed her eyes and her upper lip curled into a snarl. “If there has been anyone checking anyone out it’s you!”

            “Nonsense,” Widowmaker huffed. Her tone read as mildly distressed, but her body language said otherwise as she slid her hands along the counter top in a rather…tantalizing manner.

            “You target me specifically all the time. I think you like having me in your sights.”

            “I will not deny that I do enjoy the hunt. It grows…boring to always hit my marks.” Widowmaker preoccupied herself with a splinter in her finger. “And you are so easy to rile up.”

            Lena folded her arms across her chest. “If you are done being ridiculous I propose a trade.”

            Widowmaker lifted her eyebrows as if to say ‘go on’.

            “You allow me to have your communicator and I’ll give you back your gun.”

            Widowmaker’s expression dipped into something halfway between amused and sinister as she pinned Lena down with her predatory gaze alone. “You’re stuck.”

            “And you have no weapon.”

            “That does not bother me. I bet Talon is crawling all over this city looking for me. I am in good hands. You however, are in deep trouble.”

            “I don’t know…Reaper and Moira sounded pretty mad with you,” Lena fibbed.

            Widowmaker’s face took another turn…an angrier one. It was an odd expression to see on Widowmaker’s usually quite placid face. “They’re here? Those _bastards_.”

            Lena leaned back with smug satisfaction. “Trouble in paradise?”

            “None that concern the likes of _you._ ”

            “Harsh,” Lena said. “Now hand over your communicator. The sooner we part ways the better.”

            Widowmaker pulled a small device from somewhere behind her and Lena found herself absolutely boggled on where she could even hold that on such a skin tight suit. “I have one question for you, Cherie.”

            “Fire away.”

            “Be careful with your words.” Widowmaker smirked. Lena rolled her eyes at the woman. “Why did you take me with you? You could have left and been done with me.”

            Lena dreaded this and hoped Widowmaker would not ask. She did not know how to answer. She had no clue whether or not Widowmaker had any memory of her past life…her original life before Talon sunk their teeth into her. And there was absolutely no way she wanted to bring up feelings she long since buried and moved on from. There was nothing to attach her to the past and yet all it took was a glimpse of an old face and kick from her heroic heart that had her pulling the woman she loathed more often than not to safety.

            “That building was coming down. I couldn’t leave you to die,” Lena sighed gruffly. “I’m a hero, love.”

            “And I am your enemy. You should have left me there.” Widowmaker paused, expression going passive. “I would have left you if our roles had been reversed.”

            Lena didn’t miss a beat with her reply of, “I know.”

            They fell into silence and then Widowmaker handed over her communicator. Lena snatched it and immediately fiddled with the tiny device. She didn’t want it to be traceable so she paused in her ministrations to look up at Widowmaker. “I’m keeping this for now you know. I can’t have your friends in black tailing me because you’ve warned them.”

            Widowmaker shrugged. “It makes no difference to me.”

            Lena fiddled a minute longer then cheered as the signal came to life. “Winston? Mercy? Anyone there? It’s Tracer!”

            Silence greeted her and her heart dropped. She was about to speak again when the other end crackled to life.

            “Lena is that you?”

            “Hey there, big fella!” Lena exclaimed. “Did the team make it back okay? How’s Genji? How did the mission go?”

            “Everyone is fine and the mission was a success despite Talon interference. Where are you? Are you safe?”

            “Yeah, I’m shacked up in one of the old safe houses for now. I could really use an extraction.”

            “We can’t get to you with Talon’s presence being so heavy in the immediate area. Can you get to the outskirts of the city by nightfall? I’ll set up a drop point and give you the coordinates now.”

            “Sure thing!”

            “Good, and Tracer?” Winston paused to let a breath escape. “Be safe.”

            Lena’s expression softened and her heart warmed. “I will. I’ll see you soon. Tracer out!”

            Lena waited a second for the coordinates to come through and they did a moment later with a little ding. She read it, memorized it, and then tucked the communicator into her jacket pocket. She crossed the room towards Widowmaker who was still stood behind the front counter. Lena propped her elbows up and placed her head in her hand.

            “You’re coming with me.”

            “ _Non_! That was not part of the deal.”

            “Sorry, love. You heard our entire conversation and I can’t have you telling Talon about it if I let you leave now.”

            “That was your own foolishness, you idiot girl.”

            “Maybe so,” Lena grumbled because she really should have taken the call upstairs. In her eagerness she allowed herself to slip up. Rookie mistake. “You’re still coming with and we need to leave soon if I’m going to make it to this drop point in time.”

            “I refuse.” Widowmaker tilted her head up in a snooty manner.

            “I’m not giving you a choice.”

            “And what are you going to use as leverage hmm? My gun? I can take that by force.”

            “I’m going to—!” Lena cut off and listened to a creak that definitely came from outside. There was an odd shift she couldn’t quite place and judging by Widowmaker’s deathly stillness she recognized it too.

            Tracer crossed slowly towards the stairs careful to not make a sound. She dipped down towards one of the looser boards and as soon as she tugged it free a gas canister crashed through the window. Several more rained in through the walls that were burst open by gunfire.

            Widowmaker ducked behind the counter and Tracer reached down to grab Widow’s Kiss unfurling it by accident.

            “Cease fire, you imbeciles!” Widowmaker shouted.

            “Don’t think they’re listening!” Tracer called. She reached for her back and pulled out a pulse bomb then spun it out through one of the fresh gaps in the wall. She traced the arc the bomb made and used Widow’s Kiss to shoot it a moment before she lost sight of it. The resounding explosion rained brick into the room and the kickback from the gun knocked Tracer flat on her ass.

            “You idiot!” Widowmaker hissed. She raced over to Tracer, lifted her disoriented self to her feet, grabbed her gun, and pushed her towards the back.

            Tracer tried to pop back up and was pushed back down just as quickly as more gunfire sprayed into the room and blasted apart the wooden steps just above their heads.

            “Don’t shoot blindly,” Reaper’s guttural voice said. Tracer could just see the telltale black smoke sweeping through one of the holes in the wall as Widowmaker dragged them through a door in the back. “Do you damn jobs and get in there!”

            Tracer got her bearings and led them through a kitchen to another back door that was meant for storage. She and Widowmaker made quick work of piling up heavy items to barricade the door and not a second later did they finish could they hear banging on the other side. Tracer raced forward and burst through a sealed back door only to come face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.

            She paled. Another goddamn rookie mistake.

            “Got you.” Reaper’s bone white mask shone behind the barrel like a dark omen.

            She had not a single moment to warn Widowmaker before she recalled. She saw the spray of blood and bits of bone one millisecond before the recall took her and she zipped backwards. She came to with a loud bang followed by a raging headache and a thick stream of blood gliding down her nostril.

            “Shit,” she whispered.

            “What just happened?” Widowmaker asked as she watched Tracer grip her head. “Why are you bleeding?”

            “I think I just died,” Tracer bitterly laughed.

            “ _Excusez-moi?!_ ”

            “No time to explain!” Bile rose up her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth in preparation. “Aim for that door and shoot.”

            Widowmaker unfurled her gun without question and let off two shots in swift succession. Tracer wasted no time in kicking the door open and was pleased to find no Reaper. His wraith form hovered a few feet to the side and in his place was a single talon agent splayed out on the ground with blood flowing from his chest.

            “There you are,” Reaper said. He shifted back to his physical form guns raised.

            Tracer popped off another pulse bomb and flung it at him. He tried to move out of the way, but the bomb stuck to the side of his calf. He shifted back to wraith form as it exploded. Tracer refused to wait to discover if the pulse bomb did any damage to him in that form. She skidded down the back alley loading dock between the two storefronts trying to keep her vision clear as it flitted in and out of focus.

            “Go after her!” Reaper bellowed. “And tranquilize her!” He pointed at Widowmaker.

            “What?” Widowmaker stood perplexed, as if the mere idea of being tranquilized was beneath her.

            Tracer turned in time to see a hazy figure appear at Widowmaker’s six. “Behind you!”

            Widowmaker turned a moment too late. Moira appeared and jabbed a syringe straight into Widowmaker’s neck. She growled as the plunger was pushed in. Moira released a little over half of the unknown substance before Widowmaker backhanded her. In the midst of her turn she shot out her grappling hook which latched on to an opposing building’s rooftop.

            “Oi!” Lena shouted as she blinked after Widowmaker’s retreating figure.

            “Get back here Widowmaker!” Reaper called. Moira stood up next to him clutching the side of her bruising face. “We simply want to reset you!”

            “Reset me?” Widowmaker snapped as she landed on the roof of a building opposite the Talon agents. “I have not been reset in _years_!”

            “And you have need of it now more than ever. You can’t hide it from us.”

             Widowmaker was about to fire off another retort when suddenly she pitched forward. Tracer burst through the door to the roof and with a surprised noise leaving her throat she blinked just in time to pull Widowmaker by the arm back to safety.

            “ _Merde_ ,” she hissed. “That scientist is going to get a bullet in the back if she ever tries that again.”

            “Heh—I don’t doubt that, but we can’t stay here.” A jolt of pain ran through Tracer’s body starting at her head and stretched all the way down through her toes. She nearly dropped Widowmaker in the tremors.

            “What is happening to you?” Widowmaker asked none too kindly.

            “I told you already,” Tracer griped with arms wrapped tight around her trembling frame. She managed to drag them forward another couple of steps and out of the line of fire of Talon. “I died.”

            “Impossible.”

            “Not for someone like me. If I recall quick enough I can…cheat death so to speak.” Tracer had no idea why she was telling her this. That was knowledge that even Overwatch had not been privy to. Winston and Angela kept it under lock and key as they did not want anyone abusing this part of her recall.

            “How often have you done this?” Widowmaker asked and slung an arm around Tracer to keep her upright as another set of tremors threatened to knock her off her feet.

            “I don’t make a habit of it.” Tracer stumbled to the other edge of the roof. “Think you can get us a few buildings over?”

            Widowmaker nodded and out shot her grappling hook again. She tugged Lena in close by the torso and swung them several buildings over before Lena told her to stop. They dropped into the building, rushed down the stairs, and then ducked into an alley.

            “We have to take Talon further into the city,” Tracer said through labored breath. “We need to do it quick.”

            “I’m not understanding,” Widowmaker said. “You have to get out of the city.”

            “Talon will fan out until they know where we are. We lure them then loop them.”

            Widowmaker shook her head seemingly dazed for a moment. “I do not think that is smart. You have to be out of the city by night fall. Staying anywhere in the city will only prolong this.”

            Tracer collapsed quite suddenly on all fours with a high pitched cry. Her head felt as if it were expanding and contracting in time with her racing heartbeat and she knew what was coming next would only be worse. Her left arm went first, turning hazy and blue, similar to the streak left behind after a blink. She fell over and collapsed hard on her side as her arm tried to piece itself back into their reality.

            Widowmaker dropped to her knees with her hands hovering uncertainly over Tracer’s pulsing body. “What is this?”

            “Aftershocks.” Tracer’s voice was gravelly, almost like static off an old television.

            Blue ripples ran over her body fraying her edges as if she were unravelling in small increments. She pushed herself up with her right arm head hung low as more tremors shook through her.

            Widowmaker could hear footsteps as they closed in on their location. She looked around to form some sort of plan, but seeing as they were in a dingy alleyway with no cover she figured their odds were incredibly low if they stayed put.

            “We can’t stay here. Talon is coming.”

            “Give me a second.” Tracer’s voice was grating as it sounded like several versions of her fighting to be heard over the other. She pushed herself to her feet and shook out her limbs. Another ripple of blue light pulsed through her and she caved inward with her arms wrapped around her core. “Shit. This is a bad one.”

            The footsteps drew closer. Widowmaker looked above them at the top of the building. She could get them up there, but by now she was certain Talon would have other snipers prepped to scan the rooftops. There was a door towards the back of the alley leading into the building she could probably kick open. It did not look all that sturdy to begin with and was only reinforced by a single lock. Or she could take them into the woods that crept up along the outer rim of the town. She could make out the tree line and estimated it was only a couple hundred yards from their current position.  

            Tracer began muttering incoherent words and snatches of phrases that meant nothing to Widowmaker until she caught on to “slipstream.” There were files on all of the Overwatch agents, old and new, and Widowmaker knew of the slipstream incident. This must be an after effect and now as another ripple tore through her Tracer began speaking in quicker succession; something about not leaving her to fade back through time.

            Tracer looked up quite suddenly and grinned at Widowmaker though it looked entirely too unnerving with the dried blood from her nose and the pain riddled body language. “Amelie!”

            Widowmaker felt like she had been sucker punched. That name…

            The footsteps were bearing down on them, so Widowmaker made an executive decision. She grasped tight to Tracer’s arm and pulled her down the alley. She made a beeline for the door and as she suspected it caved under the force of her kick and splintered apart.

            “Whoa, that was not nice,” Tracer said voice still full of overlapping tones. “Why are you acting so different?”

            This time Widowmaker _felt_ the ripple that took Tracer under. It was like an electric shock zipped through her arm where they were connected. She decided not to look behind them and continued to run. She led them through a bakery and out the front door where she then sprinted across the street to head deeper into the city as Tracer wanted.

            “Fuck, my head hurts,” Tracer groaned. “Why are we running?”

            Widowmaker chanced a glance back and saw that Tracer seemed to be getting her bearings back. “We are running from Talon,” she supplied.

            Tracer’s laugh was immediately followed by a groan as her body trembled. “Oh, don’t make me laugh,” she muttered. “Wait…my voice.” Tracer’s voice was still a mixed concoction although it came out far less grating as if some of the voices retreated back to wherever they came from.

            “Not this again,” she grunted. She felt the tremor shoot down her left side seconds before it was taken over by the aftershocks. She sagged as the entirety of her left side from the hip down edged out and went blue.

            Widowmaker yelped indignantly at the weight shift. Her legs nearly buckled as Tracer went down. “This is absurd!” A string of French curses Tracer could not wrap her head around spilled from Widowmaker’s mouth. “How are we to get out of here if you can barely move?”

            Tracer’s head was still extremely fuzzy and whenever she looked at Widowmaker she felt her memories of the woman bleed together. One second it was the purple skinned assassin the next it was the fair skinned ballet dancer stood in front of her.

            And when she was not looking at Widowmaker the memories of her past resurfaced. Her time spent in the slipstream burst behind her eyes. In intervals her vision of the sleepy European town would give way to the nothingness she once experienced. Her heart clenched. She never wanted to go back.

            “Pull me up,” she ordered. Widowmaker glared at her, but did as she was told. Tracer shook out her leg as best she could and soon it flickered back into place. “Time is blurring for me right now. That was a nasty hit I took back there, so this could last for a few more minutes or an hour. I don’t know.”

            “You are not making a great case for yourself.”

            “I just need your help a little longer alright? I’m lucid enough to pull myself back into this time stream if I start slipping.”

            “What does any of that even mean?”

            “I’ll explain later—keep headed this way. The next street over should lead directly to the center of town.”

            “I still think this is foolish.” Despite her bitterness she still hefted Tracer back onto her feet.

            “For someone who works for Talon you sure don’t seem to understand how they work very well.”

            Widowmaker’s glare was partnered with a vicious snarl. “If you have the capacity to be a brat then you can walk on your own.”

            “Not a problem—.” Another pulse went through her. She pulled back her goggles to rub at her eyes. “How the hell are you not tripping over yourself yet?”

            “It is a byproduct of my conditioning.” She peered down at Tracer with an unreadable expression. “However I am lightheaded.”

            Tracer finally stood up straight. She rolled her shoulders back then fixed Widowmaker with a lopsided grin. Her voice was nearly back to normal as she asked, “You good to fuck with Talon a bit?”

            Widowmaker’s lips pulled up into a sly smirk. “After what they tried to do to me I am not opposed in the slightest.”

            “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always been interested in how people think about Tracer's abilities in terms of what you can do with it creatively. I know some people like to take it at face value for what it is in game. I like to think about all the possibilities surrounding her time in the slipstream, how that has affected her, and how her powers with the chronal accelerator work. 
> 
> This was just a bit of fun and one possible take on it. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

            “You ready for this, love?” Tracer asked.

            Widowmaker looked her over with a critical eye. “Are you sure you are ready? The… disintegration through time seems to still be affecting you.”

            Her shrug was interrupted as another jolt went through her. Through gritted teeth she grinned victoriously at Widowmaker after the tremors passed. “I’m fine.”

            Widowmaker peered at her dubiously. “I am not confident in this plan.”

            “If you—and I can’t believe I’m about to say this—cover me properly this will go off without a hitch.”

            “I will do my job,” Widowmaker replied coldly.

            “Make sure that you do.” Tracer jolted once more and rolled her shoulder as if popping it back into place when in reality she was pushing her fuzzy edges back together. She gasped lightly and took in a shuddering breath. “Ready?”

            “Oui,” Widowmaker announced. She stood to her full height and pulled Widow’s Kiss from her back.

            Tracer stood from her crouch and pulled her lone pistol into her grip. She stared at her hands lamenting the loss of her second pistol.

            “Why do you suddenly look despondent? Do not tell me you are having second thoughts,” Widowmaker hissed.

            “Absolutely not. I have to get out of here.” Tracer glared over at Widowmaker. “I’m a little bummed I lost my pistol saving your sorry arse.”

            “I did not ask you to save me.”

            “Not this again,” Tracer groaned. Another jolt through her free arm left her gasping, sucking in a deep breath, as her fingers zipped in and out of existence for a couple of moments. “Let’s move or else it will be too late.”

            They moved together surprisingly well. Widowmaker’s steps are nearly as light as her own which impressed her what with Widowmaker’s heels and all. Tracer couldn’t help the glances she shot in Widowmaker’s direction every so often as they delved deeper into the heart of the city. They moved in sync checking around corners and covering one another whenever they moved out into the open. It was such a strange, surreal feeling that left an odd weight in Tracer’s chest. She tried to tell herself that it’s left over drag from her episode.

            The sun was going to set shortly and Tracer knew they were running out of time for this plan to work. She marked the sun’s position and guessed that she had approximately three hours to get this plan to work if she wanted to get out in time.

            Tracer pressed herself into the deteriorating brick of a building that flanked the alley she was currently hiding in that opened up into the main city plaza. She could already see Talon crawling around the plaza as if they had guessed her game, or they simply weren’t as dumb as she thought.

            With a sideways glance up at Widowmaker, who was perched on the roof of the same building with Widow’s Kiss already in position, she hoped to receive some sort of confirmation from the woman that she was ready; though she supposed the sharp focus her unfortunate comrade displayed was good enough.

            A lopsided grin to calm her nerves and one blink later allowed Tracer to end up in the middle of a little circle of three Talon agents who seemed surprised to see her.

            “Hi, boys. Betcha weren’t expecting me.”

            Before they even had a chance to lift their guns the person directly in front of her fell back as a bullet split between his eyes. The spray of blood splattered across her goggles and a couple of flecks landed on her lips to which she quickly wiped across the back of her arm.

            Tracer brought her gun against the chest of the one to her left and squeezed the trigger just as the one to her right fell moments after the crack of a rifle echoed through the plaza. Chaos erupted after that.

            Tracer dipped beneath a spray of gunfire that came from two separate directions and rolled out of the way. Halfway through her roll a ripple ran through her midsection. Clutching her side, or what was left of it as the rest fell through time, she pushed off the ground and ran gun blazing. She threw herself into the back of a Talon agent and much like pushing a shoulder back into a socket she felt her body slam back inside of her.

            With a cheerful yip she rolled over top the agent bringing her arms around his neck then throwing him to the ground with a harsh snap. She blinked forward throwing herself into the chest of another agent whose head shattered mid throw. Tracer yelped and darted backwards. With a pointed glare up at Widowmaker’s position and a colorful choice of words she continued to wreak havoc with the assassin.

            A warning shot rang out as a bullet lodged itself next to her foot. Tracer looked up and noticed with glee that her plan had worked, partly anyway. Reaper and Moira were stalking across the plaza headed directly for her. Moira already had her right arm extended and the purple excretion slid towards her like a snake before being pulled taut as it closed it on her.

            Tracer blinked out of reach. “You’ll have to try harder than that to catch me,” she teased. Without waiting for a response she pivoted and took off down the street astride Widowmaker’s perch.

            Looping through the side streets was harder than she thought. Her legs felt fuzzy though they stayed intact much to her satisfaction. Reaper’s steadfast strides were a constant _thunk_ in the back of her skull that she couldn’t shake. He was a stalking predator unbothered by his squirming prey. It was that cockiness that would be his downfall. She was no mouse.

            Moira however was slippery. Whenever Tracer thought she lost her in the maze of cobblestone and brick she would hear the odd suction behind her and she would feel the iciness of the biotic grasp that slid off Moira’s hand and know that Moira was hot on her heels. Tracer would have to blink ahead or around a corner just to escape the feeling of plunging into the icy depths that she had come to associate with the scientist.

            The sound of shoes hitting the ground next to her startled Tracer so much that she blinked into a trash can toppling over it.

            “Overwatch is truly in trouble if you are one of their best agents,” came Widowmaker’s slick voice.

            “Shut up.” Tracer lifted herself kicking off some type of browned fruit from her shoe and continued onward. “I can’t lose Moira.”

            Widowmaker’s gaze lifted. “We go up.”

            Tracer rounded a corner to a dead end and backtracked only to find Moira and Reaper at the far end. She blinked away.

            “Are you crazy? We’ll be spotted.”

            “I took out all of Talon’s snipers.”

            “We’re still too exposed up top.”

            “It will put distance between them and us.” Widowmaker reached an arm across Tracer to stop her then gripped her middle tight. She shot out her grappling hook and they lifted to the nearby rooftop. “Stay down and stay still.”

            The two slid down so that their backs were on the roof and they were staring at the sky. Tracer listened intently for Moira’s hurried steps followed by Reaper’s long strides.

            The strange sensation of being pressed up against a cold body sent unpleasant thoughts racing through Tracer’s mind and she had to remind herself that it was not a dead body next to her. The footsteps came back and stopped beneath them. Almost imperceptibly so Widowmaker’s fingers tightened against Tracer’s thigh. They both sucked in a deep, silent breath and exhaled in unison. Tracer didn’t want to think about how odd all of this was nor the weird feeling that made her guts squirm.

            Even after Talon passed Tracer found her gaze drawn to the arc the sun made in the sky. She was running out of time. It wasn’t until Widowmaker’s grip left her thigh to shake her shoulder that she realized it worked. The air around them was still and quiet. They escaped. If she bemoaned the loss of contact between them she sure was not going to give herself any time to ponder it.

            Tracer wasted no time in pressing onward. Swiftly they darted across rooftops and through buildings until they reached the city limits. They burst through the tree line and Tracer checked her repurposed communicator to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

            They’re close. So close Tracer can taste it. It is then that Tracer’s ears picked up only one set of footsteps; hers.

            She whipped around to find Widowmaker standing still, gaze fixed on the distant city.

            “Come on. What are you standing there for?” Tracer snapped. This was not the time nor the place to stop.

            “I don’t know…what I am doing here,” And for the first time when Tracer looked at Widowmaker she saw a woman lost and uncertain. Something in her gut clenched because even as Amelie, Tracer never once saw doubt creep across her stunning features.

            “You’re escaping,” Tracer started then after a beat she added, “With me.”

            For a moment she could see it, hope, in those once dead eyes and then like a blown out flame it’s gone.

            Widowmaker hardened her expression. “And go where? Overwatch will not welcome me and Talon will search until they find and put a bullet in me.”

            “I’ll speak to Winston and the others. I can’t promise that they’ll welcome you, but you can come with me. Get away from Talon. We have to hurry though.”

            Widowmaker didn’t look convinced in the slightest; however she stalked forward like the lithe predator Talon transformed her into. When she brushes past Tracer can’t help it as her fingers extend towards the other woman.

            Together they press forward. They only have about half a mile left. Tracer could easily blink through that distance in a matter of moments, but now her brain is whirring with what to tell the others. How could she possibly explain this situation? Who in their right mind would trust Widowmaker on or off an Overwatch base?

            She glanced over her shoulder ready to say something, anything, to the woman when familiar smoke appeared through the trees just over her shoulder.

            “Get down!”

            Tracer blinked past Widowmaker throwing herself directly into Reaper’s chest as he rematerialized. The force was enough to throw them both backwards and Reaper landed hard against a tree. Sudden iciness washed over her right side and she blinked away out of reach of Moira. Through the trees filed out as many Talon agents as there were in the city.

            “It’s an ambush—,” Tracer’s voice faltered. “How?”

            Reaper brought a hand up to rub his jaw beneath the mask. “Was it not obvious?” He gestured towards her midsection. It took her a second longer than she would have liked to realize he was drawing attention to Widowmaker’s communicator clipped to the bottom of her jacket.

            Tracer spun around in wide eyed fury and indignation. “You played me!”

            Widowmaker felt as much guilt as her failing conditioning allowed. “Non! I had no idea.” She turned her slit eyed gaze on Reaper. “You bugged my communicator. How long?”

            “I can’t believe I fell for that,” Tracer bit out. A Talon agent tried to sneak up behind her and with one swift jab to their throat Tracer had them down. Her fists clenched in a white knuckled grip as she berated herself mentally.

            Reaper ignored Widowmaker’s comment and reached into the flaps of his long coat. “This is perfect. Two birds—one stone.” He pulled out his guns and all hell broke loose.

            Tracer did everything she could to evade the Talon agents that swarmed her all while keeping as far from Widowmaker as possible. Her cheeks were warm with shame at her own stupidity. And it didn’t matter if Widowmaker looked remorseful, or as remorseful as she could look, whenever their eyes met across the battlefield because she was through playing these games with Talon.

            Somehow the two women ended up in the center of the swarm, back to back thanks to Moira and Reaper leading the charge on either side.

            “Any bright ideas?” Widowmaker asked. She mentally catalogued her remaining ammo, too small of an amount to do any real damage to Talon’s numbers, and with only two venom mines left she was running on fumes.

            “Like I’d share them with you,” Tracer spat.

            “I wasn’t lying when I said I had no idea they bugged my communicator,” Widowmaker replied venomously. “And right now our best bet of getting out of here alive is with each other’s help.”

            Tracer bit down hard on her bottom lip. Anger and blood rushed to the surface. She sucked her teeth knowing Widowmaker was right.

            “Ladies, what are you muttering over there?” Moira asked in a falsely gleeful tone. “Care to share with the class?”

            “Nah, we’re good,” Tracer shot back.

            “Then I guess this game of cat and mouse is over.”

            Tracer was going to snap back something resentful when suddenly she was being shoved, hard. She fell to one knee, wide eyed gaze turned to Widowmkaer who took a hit to the back of the head.

            She crumbled like a slinky folding in on itself. Blood leeched from the wound in the back of her head soaking into the dirt beneath her face. If not for the rise and fall of her chest Tracer would have assumed the worst.

            Suddenly there was a shotgun cocked in her face. She glanced around it wishing her brain would formulate some sort of plan. She could blink away, sure, she still had energy for that, but then her eyes dragged across the woman bleeding out next to her. She cursed herself. Why couldn’t she just bloody leave?

            “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Reaper told her. He lowered the gun from her face, dragging the muzzle against the skin of her cheek and down her neck until it landed on her chronal accelerator with a _tink_.

            “Look buddy, I’m not planning on dying tonight, and I sure as hell ain’t planning on being a prisoner in some dingy Talon cell.”

            Reaper’s chuckle was as deep as it was unsettling. “Who said anything about you being a prisoner?”

            Tracer’s eyes widened, perceptively behind her goggles. She knew it was a dumb idea to recall when she had been stationary for so long, but she had no choice.

            The gunshot resonated with such a vicious echo that rattled her ears and her brain. The clang from her attempted recall whirred then exploded like a backfired car’s exhaust. Everything fell into a haze as wind rushed past her. Vaguely she was aware of someone calling her name, but it sounded far away as if she were deep under water.

            The pain flared; shooting down every nerve ending, and encompassing every fiber of her being. Her entire body glitched, splicing itself into pieces as multiple timelines fought for space. Her brain simultaneously felt like liquid dripping out her bloody nose and like it was a sponge so far expanded that it would crack her skull from the inside.

She began to lose sight of herself. Mind melding, Winston called it. She could hear her own voices scraping against the sides of her brain followed by a sharp pain. She cried out and for the second time that day she felt herself die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I was so busy with performances, auditions, other writing projects and then I went on vacation and oof, it has been a busy couple of months.
> 
> I will try not to make you wait this long again for another chapter ^_^'
> 
> Thank you for your patience. Please enjoy!
> 
> And remember, comments are always welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

            Being pulled back into the slipstream, even partially, felt like a dream. Or perhaps nightmare would be a better term. It always left her unnerved that the slipstream seemed to want her back, if a non-sentient thing could want such a thing, or even want at all. She’d wake in a cold sweat after a bad episode as her own lingering voices became nothing more than whispers in the back of her mind.

            This was similar, only louder. Her current voice was fighting to be heard over the countless others. She couldn’t think like this. And was that Winston jumping overhead? It would explain why she felt herself shake violently upon his impact. Someone called her name, she thought, it was hard to tell.

            Her voices, past, present, and future meshed together with the tumultuous commotion happening around her. She found snatches of conversations, trepidation, laughter, distress, all wound into one pulsing voice in her head. Her own voice, panicked, called out for help as her plane was swallowed by the slipstream. Her heartrate picked up exponentially. No. There was no way this was real. A memory. That’s all it was. She was grounded. She had Winston to thank for that. But then why did she still feel displaced?

            Another voice called out to her friends in Overwatch, another shadow she hoped. Not reality. Not her current reality anyway. Aw hell, her head hurt trying to parse through what was current and what was not. And was someone dragging her? Yes, she was definitely being moved away from the fighting.

            Then a gentle voice pulled the rest aside.

            “Lena, you must stay awake.”

            Was that her own voice? It had to be. She only ever heard herself. Why did it sound so different though? Not squeaky like her younger apparitions, or even plucky like her current voice, but mature as if she were hardened by experiences she had yet to encounter.

            “They’re going to hurt her if you don’t do something. Trust me.”

            A warning? For who? Who was going to be hurt? She could barely understand what she was seeing in the snatches her eyes were open.

            “Lena you won’t like what happens next. You have to do something.”

            How? She still felt unhinged.

            “Get up!”

            Her eyes flew open with a clarity they did not have moments before. Her gaze landed on Widowmaker, pinned face down with the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of her head. She snarled something at whoever was above her.

            Tracer blinked out of the arms of whoever was holding her and heard a faint shocked yell of her call sign. One more blink and she could make it, she would.

            Widowmaker caught her eye as she zipped forward and Tracer noticed shock there followed by hope. Tracer slammed into the side of whoever held the gun and they tumbled to the ground. They lifted almost immediately so she brought her foot down hard against their head. The body rolled over unmoving. A cheer rose in her head.

            She reached out for Widowmaker, but her arm felt fuzzy. Widowmaker peered at her with understanding. She reared up and grabbed Tracer by the middle. Her left arm extended as her grappling hook shot out and together they sped forward.

            Tracer fell into another body and the impact seemed to jolt her body back into place. Arms rose around her protectively as her vision began to go dark around the corners. She peered up and found the golden halo framing Mercy’s head comforting in more ways than one. Though the expression she wore as she stared down Widowmaker was far from reassuring.

            “What do you think you’re doing?”

            Widowmaker straightened her back. “Making sure she gets to safety.”

            “Go before I do something we’ll both regret.”

            Tracer perked up at the unfamiliarity in Mercy’s tone and pushed out of her arms. She pitched forward and stumbled into Widowmaker’s back. “Let her come with us,” she said. “I’m about to black out so don’t you dare leave her behind.”

            The muscles in her back tensed as she gazed out into the field where the fighting continued between Overwatch and Talon. Then her neck craned minutely, enough for her to look down at Tracer.

            “I’m not welcome and for good reason.”

            “I don’t care!”

          Tracer could hear the static hit her vocal chords and knew she was on borrowed time as the darkness crept steadily inward. She was fraying at the edges again, unraveling like yarn, and Widowmaker reached out. The cold grip of her fingers bit into Tracer’s shoulder grounding her enough to finish what she had to say.

          “She comes with us. Don’t hurt her.”

          Much like before she fell into the void fearing it was the slipstream taking her back. The last thing she could feel was the prick of Widowmaker’s fingers as her other hand came to hold her. It was her presence that kept Tracer from panicking as she dipped into the abyss.

* * *

          Lena woke to an electric feel and a gasp so sharp it hurt. She sat up, heart pounding, ears ringing, and she leaned over to the side and released whatever was in her stomach. She swiped the back of her arm across her mouth after she finished and noticed she was back at headquarters, in the infirmary no less.

            Lena was spent. She wished she was in her room. Everything in her pleaded with her to go back to sleep. Instead she swung her legs over the side of the bed and tested her muscles. Solid. Nothing felt out of place or fuzzy. Her mind and body were her own again. She gave herself a few minutes to breathe and was pleased to not face a single tremor.

            She grabbed the IV by her side and began to walk to the door. As much as she wanted to be rid of it she knew better than to take the IV out without Angela’s consent or face her wrath. She was just about to open the door when it slid open for her with Angela stood on the other side clipboard in hand.

            She didn’t seem surprised at all to find Lena standing, just disappointed. “You’re supposed to be in bed,” she sighed.

            “You should know by now that you can’t keep me still for long,” Lena said with a tired grin.

            Angela watched her with an analytical gaze. “And you should know better than to discharge yourself from my care.”

            Lena let out a faux gasp of shock and gestured to the IV stood diligently at her side. “I have been good!”

            Angela seemed entirely unimpressed. Her hand came to rest on Lena’s shoulder, warm, unlike the hands from before, and pushed her back to the bed.

            “Let’s get this checkup done because I know you will not stay here no matter what I say.”

            “You know me so well,” Lena replied with a cheeky, much more enthusiastic grin.

            Angela’s expression hardened for just a moment, but it was enough to send warning bells alight in Lena’s head. “I thought I did anyway.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Angela took out her stethoscope and placed it on Lena’s back. “Breathe for me.” There was a moment of silence as she listened before pulling the stethoscope out her ears and jotting something down on a pad. “What were you thinking asking us to bring Widowmaker with us? You put all of us in a precarious position.”

            It was if cold water crashed into her. Lena’s jaw dropped as the two women stared at each other and then Lena was pushing to her feet. “Where is she? You didn’t leave her there did you?”

            “Why are you acting like this Lena? I thought…you put all of that behind you.”

            Lena grimaced, suddenly quite angry at the accusation in Angela’s voice. “Something happened out there and I—couldn’t leave her to die.”

            “She’s not the woman you once knew.”

            “I am well aware of that!” This time Lena did not care at all as she slid the needle out of her arm and stood. “Where is she? The least you can do is tell me that much.”

            For a moment Lena feared Angela would not tell her. She was about to resort to asking Athena when Angela sighed.

            “Holding cell C. I must warn you that there are some who are…angry with this entire situation.”

            “I’ll deal with the backlash. I knew what I was getting into with this.”

            Lena left Angela in the infirmary and quickly made her way to her room. She wanted a shower and a change of clothes before she dealt with the mess she undoubtedly made for herself. She was grateful that no one ran into her on her way to her room or on her way towards Holding cell C after she refreshed herself.

            Opening the sliding door she first noticed Morrison standing with his back to her as he faced the holding cell. She then noticed Widowmaker standing across from him, behind the partition, mirroring his body language.

            “Nice of you to finally join us, Oxton,” he said without turning around to see if it was really her.

            “Morrison,” she said in way of greeting. “What’s going on here? And why is she chained to the floor?” Lena asked, aghast, as she padded close to the partition and was able to see the thick chain latched around Widowmaker’s ankle.

            “She is a criminal and an enemy to Overwatch.”

            “Take that off her. What do you think she’s going to do?”

            “She is a trained assassin—,”

            “And you think chaining her when she is already deep inside a fortified base crawling with Overwatch agents isn’t overkill?”

            “We can’t take that chance.”

            “For fucks sake,” Lena muttered. “Let me in to talk to her.”

            Morrison finally looked at her and she no longer felt the need to bend to his will or direction as she did when she first joined Overwatch. If anything she felt more defiant than ever.

            “You can talk to her just fine from here.”

            “Bloody hell. She had multiple opportunities to kill me already if that’s what you’re worried about. And she didn’t. So, I’m going in to talk to her.”

            Lena was about to palm open the door to her cell when the door behind them slid open. Fareeha stormed in, fists clenched tight at her sides and jaw set in a hardened line.

            “It’s true. She is here,” she breathed. Her fire tinged gaze landed on Lena. “Is it true you’re the one who brought her here?”

            Lena squared her shoulders, not liking the look in Fareeha’s eyes. “I am.”

            “Then I thank you and ask you to get out of my way.”

            Lena’s gaze narrowed. “Why?”

            “Because I’m going to beat her into an unrecognizable mess for what she did to my mother.”

            Lena immediately took up a spot in front of the door.

            Fareeha laughed unkindly. “Move, Lena. My fight is not with you.”

            “I will not let you hurt her.”

            The shock was palpable. “Why are you defending her? You of all people should get how I’m feeling. She has robbed you as well.”

            Lena paced forward until she was square with Fareeha’s chest. “Back off, mate.”

            Fareeha looked like she was about to say something else when Morrison suddenly cleared his throat.

            “Let’s leave Oxton to interrogate Widowmaker.”

            Fareeha’s eyes narrowed. “Interrogate? Is that right?”

            “Sure is,” Lena snapped right back.

            Morrison left the room with Fareeha still simmering, but diligently following. When the door closed behind them Lena asked Athena to lock it for her. She released a large breathe to calm the nerves. She was prepared for anger, but not like that, not from Fareeha of all people; though she suspected it wasn’t without warrant.

            She turned her sights to Widowmaker and palmed open the door to her cell. The woman turned away from the large window.

            “That was foolish, chérie. If you continue to act like that you will isolate yourself from your comrades.”

            “It will take a lot more than an argument for that to happen. How you holding up, love?”

            Widowmaker watched her much like a predator planning its next move and Lena would be lying if she said it did not unnerve her to be stared at in such a way.

            “I am not dead yet.”

            Lena pushed closer, heart aching at the words. “Hey, no one is going to kill you here.”

            “I think the Amari girl would gladly do it.”

            “I won’t let her.” She grew closer and still Widowmaker did not react. Lena longed to reach out and touch her, or for Widowmaker to come to her like she had before.

            “You should,” Widowmaker said, gaze as steely as her tone. “I deserve as much.”

            Lena chewed the inside of her cheek. “I can’t deny that you’ve done some fucked up things, but that was Talon, not you.”

            Something akin to anger, or maybe paranoia flashed behind Widowmaker’s eyes for a single moment

            “This is who I am.”

            “Well yeah, now it is, but it wasn’t always—,”

            “I am exactly what I am. Make no mistake.”

            “This doesn’t have to be who you are. I know you’re changing, breaking free of Talon’s conditioning. You can be more than a killer.”

            “No. I cannot.”

            “Don’t be so stubborn—,” she reached towards Widowmaker who tracked the movement like a hawk.

            “You have a lot of nerve to talk down to me like I am some subservient, unaware, machine. I am in full control of my actions just as you are.”

            Lena’s hand hovered in the space between them.

            “You are just as despicable and perhaps even more so as you are selfish.”

            Lena’s hand fell entirely. “What are you talking about?”

            “You could have saved Mondatta, but instead you chose to save yourself.”

            That name rang through her like one of her tremors. She could recall that night so clearly; including the absolute soul crushing weight that ripped through her as if Widowmaker’s bullet had gone through her instead of the monk.

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lena whispered as a cold fury swept inside her same as it did that fateful night.

            “I’ve seen you cheat death firsthand, _chérie_ ,” she spat. “You’re no better than me.”

            A blind rage overtook her, clouding her rational thought, and filling her with the same instinct it had when she tackled Widowmaker on top of that roof. As if history was repeating itself Lena threw herself into Widowmaker with a loud, angry cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof that mess with Blizzard this week sure was...disgusting. 
> 
> I still love my ladies though and this story forges on.


End file.
